


Of Float Tubes and Angels

by Crowgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Days Off, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Float tubes, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2456384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘See? Told you the water’s not so bad.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Float Tubes and Angels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SS7Goddess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SS7Goddess/gifts).



‘This is very boring.’

‘So come in swimming.’ Dean splashes one foot off the float tube he’s lounging in and grins at Castiel who frowns at him.

‘You know I cannot swim.’

‘I thought you could do everything.’

Castiel scowls at him. ‘And you know that is not true.’

‘So put down the book and come in doggy-paddling -- no-one’s gonna see you.’

‘Doggy--what?’ Castiel slides the receipt he’s using as a bookmark into the hardcover in his hand and closes it, pushing the book aside along the wooden picnic table. 

Dean waggles his hands and feet in the water, splashing himself and the tube and setting up a series of waves. ‘Y’know -- just come in and -- splash about.’

Castiel gives him a dubious look, then glances at his right shoulder. The bulk of the bandage is visible even under the loose shirt he’s wearing.

Dean winces. The burn is healing fine and he knows Castiel doesn’t blame him but that doesn’t stop him blaming himself. Catching Cas with a splash of flame from a holy oil Molotov cocktail was not something Dean wants to repeat ever, ever again. He’s been practicing his aim with stones, using a large dark bole on the trunk of a tree near the water line as a target. He can hit it five times out of seven now. ‘We’ll change the bandage if we need to. Come on.’

Castiel looks at him for a minute, then stands up and shrugs off the over-sized shirt he’d stolen from Dean when they arrived at the lakeside cabin. It lands in a pile at his feet -- and the rest is all Cas. And Dean can look all he wants, can let his eyes roam -- and his hands, when Castiel gets close enough -- without worrying about his phone ringing or Sam knocking or Bobby calling.

Dean raises one dripping hand and crooks his finger at Castiel. ‘C’mon.’

Castiel steps gingerly into the water, setting down each foot with what Dean thinks is exaggerated care. Dean paddles his hands in the water, slowly rotating himself on the float tube until he’s straight in Cas’ path and only a few feet out in the water. The lake bottom is a gentle slope here and, despite having taken six or seven steps, Cas is only in to his knees. 

Castiel takes a step and wobbles dangerously for a minute, hands out at his sides; Dean can almost hear the rock grating against the gravelly bottom. Castiel steadies again, takes one last long step, and puts his hands on the rounded surface of the float tube. He’s not quite smiling but Dean can see the look in his eyes now and this is way better than being out here on his own. 

He raises one dripping hand and smoothes it down Castiel’s uninjured breast. ‘See? Much nicer out here.’

Castiel nods, the corner of his mouth quirking up. ‘Much nicer.’

‘And, look, look...’ Dean kicks with one foot and turns the tube around, reaching behind himself to grab onto the sharp curves of Castiel’s hips and haul himself backwards until his shoulders bump Castiel’s chest. ‘Comfy, too.’

Castiel’s arms fold around his waist to keep him in place, Cas’ pale fingers just dipping into the water to either side of his hips. Dean leans his head back and closes his eyes; he can smell the hot sweetness of the top of the float tube in the sun and the faint dank wet smell of the lake edge -- they’re not an unpleasant smells, just strong. 

They remind him of the couple of times John brought them up here when Sammy was just a kid: John and Henry, who owned the place, would sit on the old dock, gone now, drinking beer and watching Dean and Sam splash and float around. There’s nothing in the water here, except weeds, minnows, and the occasional passing turtle. It’s a safe place.

‘You should put more sunscreen on,’ Castiel murmurs against the top of his head.

Dean shivers. ‘Nah, I’m good.’

‘If you burn again--’

‘You’ll have to rub aloe on me.’ Dean cranes his head back and grins up at Castiel. ‘Now wouldn’t that be a shame.’

Castiel’s hands tighten over his ribs and there’s a soft kiss at the top of his forehead. ‘And your chances of skin cancer go up by approximately--’

‘Jesus, I’m never letting you near cable TV again.’ Dean angles and wriggles and splashes his thighs thoroughly with cool water and finally manages to get his hand at the low curve of Castiel’s stomach. He can feel the tangle of rough wet hair at the base of his palm; his fingers are in cool water, stroking warm skin and Castiel shivers. 

‘You know there is a perfectly good bed in the cabin.’

‘Yeah. I know.’ Dean resettles himself against Castiel’s chest; it’s more comfortable if he looks ahead across the water and whatever Castiel’s saying, the rising swell under Dean’s fingers is saying it’s a lie. ‘I was there last night, remember?’

Castiel makes a noise that’s half-huff, half-moan and buries his face against Dean’s shoulder. 

‘You weren’t complaining about the aloe then.’ Castiel had been the one to get suntouched yesterday; neither of them had thought about how much time they were spending actually outside as opposed to outside in a car and Castiel’s shoulders and nose had turned a painful pink. Dean, proud of his forethought for once, brought the tube of aloe gel out of the fridge like a bottle of champagne but, by the time he got to Castiel’s shoulderblades with Cas stretched underneath him on the bed, he’d gotten -- a tiny bit distracted. 

Dean sighs and rolls his head back against Castiel’s chest. ‘Said you could try it on me tonight, remember?’

Castiel huffs again and bites gently at the tendon that joins neck and shoulder. ‘I also remembered to pack _proper_ lubricant.’

Dean nearly purrs at the feeling of Castiel’s hot mouth on his skin but manages to snort a laugh and roll his eyes instead, even though he knows Cas can’t see him. ‘Only you, Cas. Only you.’

‘It better be only me.’ That’s a low rumble in Dean’s ear accompanied by the slow slide of a hand over his hip.

Dean closes his eyes, relishes the swell of desire in his belly. ‘You know it is.’ He flattens his palm against the base of Castiel’s cock and pushes his hand down as low as he can get it without actually dislocating his shoulder. 

Castiel licks at the place he bit, dotting kisses down the back of Dean’s shoulder. With his free hand, he grabs the curve of the float tube and pulls Dean back against his hips, squashing the inflated rubber between their bodies. ‘I don’t want you to hurt yourself.’

Dean can comfortably slip most of his left arm into the water now: it’s a strange contrast, hot and dry on his back and right side and then the sudden plunge into coolness and wet. He strokes his thumb down the side of Castiel’s cock; he isn’t hard yet, but he’s getting there. The water is pretty chill after all.

‘Wouldn’t it be easier if I...’ Castiel lets the sentence drift into silence as he holds Dean back against him with one arm and palms his cock with the other.

The clash between arousal and cold swimming trunks is too much and Dean shudders. ‘Ugh -- no! Jesus!’ He feels Castiel tighten behind him and can feel the withdrawal even if Cas hasn’t moved. ‘No, c’mon, you know I don’t mean that. It’s just these goddamn trunks--’ There’s no way he can get out of them without getting out of the tube and messing up this whole awkward, perfect system he’s got going.

‘Is that all?’ Castiel sounds both relieved and amused and Dean’s trunks are gone before he can think of a snappy comeback. Castiel’s hand presses warm over cool, slick flesh and Dean groans, trying vainly to push his hips up against Castiel’s palm. All he manages to do is bounce up and down in the water a little, setting off a ring of ripples around them. ‘And you are _sure_ you don’t want the bed?’

‘Mmm...’ Dean circles his fingers around Castiel’s dick; a mix of lake water and precome is better slick than he’d thought it would be and his hand moves easily. He closes his eyes, the better to imagine the plump round head under his fingers; he teases at the spot about a finger’s-width below, the one that reliably makes Castiel hiss and arch against him.

‘Fuck… Dean...’ Castiel’s voice is a rough breath in his ear and Dean drops his other hand over Castiel’s, making their intertwined fingers a cradle over his own crotch. He can wait -- he wants to focus on this. Dean keeps his eyes closed; with one ear he can hear the faint lap of water against the float tube; the other is pressed against Castiel’s breastbone and he can hear a rapidly increasing heartbeat. He presses closer against the sun-warm skin and muscle above water; below water, he twists his wrist slightly and slides his thumb back to press between Cas’ thighs, that spot of smooth, smooth skin that no-one else will ever get to see. 

Castiel groans in his ear again, hand tightening against Dean’s fingers and Dean grins, turning his head enough to press a circle of kisses over the center of Cas’ breastbone. ‘You want to come?’

‘I -- yes, yes, you know I do.’ It takes him a minute and a deep breath and, even when Castiel does answer, he sounds almost shy. It’s taken Dean months -- at least a good two-thirds of their relationship to date -- to get Castiel to start _saying_ what he wants in so many words -- in so many actual human American English words, anyway; Bible phrases and dead languages aren’t so much help, although some of them sound damn sexy. 

Under water, Dean circles his fingers, makes a ring around Castiel’s cock and smoothes his fingers along loosely once just to hear Castiel’s breath catch -- then tightens his hand, rubbing the ball of his thumb up the underside of the shaft, circling his index finger and thumb around the head, slipping back to the base again, coming back up more slowly, tightening his grip, tugging just a _tiny_ bit-- It only takes a few rounds of this before Castiel’s fingers clamp down tight over his and Dean can feel the warm, soft pulse against his fingers, Castiel’s hips moving slightly of their own accord although he’s got to imagine the rubber of the tube doesn’t feel all that great.

‘See? Told you the water’s not so bad.’ Dean brings his hand back up out of the water, a milky mixture of come and lake dripping off his fingers. He sucks one dry, just to see the look on Castiel’s face, as though he can’t decide whether he wants to get hard again on the spot or tell Dean to go brush his teeth. The combination isn’t bad, either, he decides, but Cas without the undertaste of mud and rocks would be even better.

‘C’mon--’ He slips down and out of the tube with a splash -- there’s a second in cool dim silence that makes his ears ring -- and comes up dripping beside Castiel.

‘What -- is -- but--’ Castiel blinks the haze out of his eyes and focuses on Dean.

Dean slicks wet hair off his forehead with the back of a hand and grins at him. ‘You can test out some of that proper lubricant on me.’

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is [@ss7goddess' ](https://twitter.com/ss7goddess)fault.
> 
> Sort of un-beta'd. Ish.


End file.
